“Why the hell would I want coffee?” Gavin growled as Allie and Frankie approached. “I’ve worked hard to get this drunk.”

“Ms. Hogan ordered it for you,” the waiter said, nodding toward them.

Gavin followed the waiter’s movement and transferred his gaze to Allie. As he half rose from his chair, an expression she couldn’t quite read crossed his face, something vulnerable and maybe even relieved. The tension in her chest softened. “Allie!” Then he dropped back down into the chair, and a cynical smile twisted his lips. “Talked your way past the fire-breathing dragons at the gate, did you? I should have known you could do it.”

Allie wanted to take him in her arms and smooth down his wildly rumpled hair, like her mother used to do when she was upset. Instead, she perched on the chair beside him. “Ms. Hogan was nice enough to save me from pneumonia.”

“Frankie hasn’t got a nice bone in her body,” Gavin said. “She just doesn’t want to deal with me herself.”

“Or maybe I’m trying to help you win your bet,” Frankie said.

For a moment, Gavin looked baffled. “Oh, the drunken idiocy from last fall.” He surveyed Allie with a speculative gaze before he shook his head. “She’s my muse.”

“What bet?” Allie asked, glancing between Frankie and Gavin.

Frankie lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Evidently, I was wrong.” Then she walked away.

“Would you like some coffee to chase away the chill?” Gavin nodded to the mug the waiter had left on the table. “Although it would serve you right if you got sick. I told you to go home.”

Allie wrapped her cold fingers around the steaming mug gratefully, even though she didn’t want the coffee itself. “Hugh told me what happened.” The slump of Gavin’s shoulders made her heart twist. “Movie people have the attention span of gnats.”

“They gave up on me, Allie.” He sloshed more liquor into his tumbler. “Abandoned me like rats from a sinking ship. And it was their goddamn idea to end that last film on a cliff-hanger, not mine.”

“Last I checked, you don’t write your books for the movies. You write them for your readers.” She moved the bottle out of his reach. “And your readers have not abandoned you. Look at the turnout last Thursday.”

“My readers. I’ve failed them, too.” The desolation in his eyes made Allie shiver despite the warm mug in her hands.

She put down the coffee and leaned forward to take his free hand between hers. He let her, which she considered a good sign, but his fingers lay inert. “Gavin, you have the Christmas book.”

“Ah, yes. I am exuding Christmas spirit right now.”

“That will make Julian’s point of view all the more emotionally compelling. Because you understand how he’s feeling.”

“It’s gone.” He knocked back half his drink.

“What is?”

“The spark. The idea. It was barely there to begin with.”

“Are you kidding? We discussed it for over an hour. You scribbled on your legal pad for another two hours.”

He withdrew his hand from her grasp. “Sweetheart, I appreciate your attempt to cheer me up, but you’re fighting a losing battle.”

“So you were just wasting my time and energy today. I call that mighty inconsiderate.”

“I’m paying you for it.” His lips curled into a hard smile.

That hit a nerve, so she snapped at him, “You insisted on that, not me.”

“You should leave.”

“So you can wallow in self-pity?”

“Because I’m going to say something I’ll regret.”

Tamping down her annoyance, she laid her hand on his thigh, feeling the soft wool of his trousers over the hard warmth of his muscle. “Gavin, come home with me.”

“Move your hand a little higher and maybe you can persuade me.”

She lifted it to cup his cheek. “It’s a better idea than giving yourself a whopping hangover.”

Stubble scraped at her palm as he jerked his head back. “I can have you thrown out. That’s one of the perks of being a member.”

Allie knew he was attacking her to stave off his anguish, but her temper was fraying. “Frankie let me in because she thought you needed a friend.”

“You are not my friend. You are my employee and my lover. The latter not nearly often enough.” He toasted her mockingly.

His repudiation sliced through her, so she pulled in a deep breath to counteract the hurt. He was just like Pie, struggling against her rescuer. Except the blood Gavin drew couldn’t be stanched with a Band-Aid.

Folding her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You want to pick a fight in the super fancy Bellwether Club? It’s no skin off my back, because I don’t know a soul here. But these are your people. You have to face them in the morning.” She leaned in and lowered her voice while she held his gaze. “I get it. You’re trying to make me leave. And you’re just about to succeed.”

He shifted in his chair as something that might be guilt flickered in his eyes.

She leaned farther in and dropped her voice to a whisper. “But I want you to think about whether you really want me to go.”

She was so close to his face that she could see the lines of pain etched around his mouth and the purplish shadows under his eyes. Her anger began to seep away.

He turned his head to stare down into his glass, swirling the amber liquid while a muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’m trying to do you a favor.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I sat outside in the sleet until they opened the door, so I’ve already proved that I want to be here. Now it’s your turn. If you say to stay, I will. If you insult me one more time, I will leave faster than a mule running from a swarm of pissed-off bees.” Maybe an appeal to his sense of humor would break down his reluctance to accept her help.

Not even a shadow of laughter lurked in his eyes as he raised them to her. They had darkened to nearly gray, without any light in them. He just looked at her in silence for a long moment, giving nothing away.

She held her breath. Maybe he did want to be alone to lick his wounds in miserable solitude.

“I—” He stopped and took a swallow of his drink. “Stay.” Then he added a plea she never expected to hear from him. “Please.”